


Generic Fanfiction Title

by PixelSpook



Category: The Centricide (Webseries)
Genre: Existentialism, Homophobia, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Slurs, Suicidal Thoughts, The F Slur, Xenophobia, be happy you get to experience my magnu, but like ironically, but like post ironically, gay people, haha gae, i have no idea how to use tags but this is definitely smut, im a pretty good writer tbh, m opus, omg how do I tag, repressed nazi bc why not
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:01:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29120880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PixelSpook/pseuds/PixelSpook
Summary: Generic authunity fic but things happen differently. Also Ancom and Ancap will fuck. All in one story happening at the same time, what a bold idea. This is an innovative concept - boy isn't it fun to take the lead and be the god writer of an universe and make different political ideologies fuck. I can't promise it to be any less amoral, but hey, trope subversions.
Relationships: Anarcho-Capitalist/Anarcho-Communist (Centricide), Communist/White Identitarian | Nazi (Centricide), Libunity, authunity
Comments: 6
Kudos: 17





	Generic Fanfiction Title

**Author's Note:**

  * For [all the sad gay rightists in the world](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=all+the+sad+gay+rightists+in+the+world).



> I am in fact getting beta readers for this. I never thought I'd even fathom getting beta readers for fanfics.

What a sad day it had been. Nothing different had happened and that was exactly the problem. There was no constant bickering since both of the anarchists were out degenerating but that almost felt like a bad thing. Without them, the house’s atmosphere was permeated by the coldness and hatred the authoritarians exuded. The Identitarian sat on the sofa and indifferently stared at the television screen. He took a sip of his beer and set it back down on the coffee table. The TV was displaying ‘World War II in Color’, a documentary he kept coming back to, even if he’d easily get irritated by the focus on the Allies. 

He moved as Commie sat down besides him. The communist brought a plate full of traditional Russian pancakes. He offered one to Nazi. 

“This looks like deformed Arab food.”

“It’s syrniki. Like a pancake.”

“Like an _obese_ pancake?” He considered for a moment and took one. It didn’t taste that bad. 

He eyed the man sitting next to him. Tankie didn’t look especially sad today, but again, his image in Nazi’s mind didn’t change, as the leftist’s hand was already reaching for the flask in his coat pocket. For a moment, memories of the past flashed through the rightist’s head. The days where they were both powerful, truly powerful. He looked back to the screen. That’s why he was watching this, wasn’t it? To remember a lost era? The Identitarian grabbed the remote and switched to Chrome Video, the streaming server owned by the piss-colored capitalist. Unfortunately, there were no shows to be found that didn’t look like they were controlled by (((them))).

“Are you ok?” Commie asked absentmindedly, stuffing his mouth as Nazi aggressively pressed the buttons on the controller.

_“Yes”_ , Nazi answered, his voice strained. Commie nodded, eyeing him, seemingly unconvinced.

Tankie got up and went back to the kitchen to wash his plate as his authoritarian counterpart finally settled on an episode of The Guys that featured his favorite character, Stormfront. If only women born after 1993 were more like her, then maybe he would have been able to get a girlfriend. 

As the lefist sat back down, Nazi fliched at the feeling of their knees touching.

He inched slightly closer to Commie as both stared at the screen. Tankie shifted positions again and Nazi shuddered as the feeling of Commie’s leg against him was becoming more obvious. 

“What is it with you today?” Asked the communist. The other didn’t answer, just kept fidgeting with his hat’s iron cross pin.

Tankie pushed his leg against the other’s and chuckled as Nazi adverted his gaze. He paused for a moment and then spoke deliberately. 

"Nazi, are you blushing?”

At that moment Nazi felt as he might as well die. Sadly, he had left his Luger on his nightstand, so he couldn’t shoot his brains out and instead had to bear with the feeling of his face getting hotter. He felt like he was making a mistake, but against his better judgement, he moved closer

“You’re… Gay.” Tankie said matter-of-factly, with a hint of surprise in his voice. Their shoulders were touching now. Nazi’s heartbeat was racist as Tankie sat still, his expression unreadable.

“How insightful, _Sherlock_.”

Suddenly, there was a hand resting on his thigh. 

His shoulders tensed, as he realised the _communist_ was touching him. A communist. Tankie’s soft gaze moved to the fascist’s eyes, and it would have been almost calming if they hadn’t tried to kill each other many times before. His face must have looked pathetic as Commie moved his hand from his thigh to cup his face. 

Feelings are weird, you see. They usually aren’t as simple as happy or sad or angry or dead, no. A better way to visualise them is like the true version of complex venn diagrams, all fucked up and nightmarish. That’s what really feelings look like, contorted and distorted looking like cruel reimaginations of humanity’s cute descriptions of them. And sometimes the discrepancies between the simple and clean colors used to demonstrate what is inside the Mind and what truly lies within are too strong. 

It felt like terror. It felt like something he’d been starved from his entire life and it felt that maybe he should quietly go to his room, heed the anarcho-communist’s advice and follow his leader. It felt warm. Feeling himself lean into the touch, Nazi suddenly pulled away, his waves of thought crashing down onto him. His hands firmly gripped the leftist’s wrist, pulling Commie’s hand away. The identitarian’s face was a mix of shock and fear as he got up and left.

  
  
***  
  


The beautiful flag of What Once Was stood proudly on the wall. Yes, that brought comfort. It was all creased up in solidarity with all the people that had to hide their pride for their identity away. His heart ached for all the white supremacists in hiding, and he knew he had to be strong if not for his people, and of course, the eradication of all minorities to ever exist. His eyes rested on Luggy, calmly sitting atop his nightstand. No, not today. He had to be strong.

Nazi shuffled in his bed and sighed, closing the laptop which was previously displaying World War II nazi propaganda. There was expectation for a stronger feeling, maybe disgust or rage after what he had done, but there was only disappointment. Oh, how the mighty had fallen. He envied the man he once was. Nazi let out another heavy sigh as he tossed a plastic plate over the tissues he just disposed of in the trash can. No evidence left behind, lest someone would try to dig through his trash. The identitarian toyed with the possibility. No evidence left behind, he concluded.

**Author's Note:**

> I read a lot of authunity before and I saw that a lot of stuff just repeated itself with little to no variation so what I'm trying to do is not necessarily avoid but subvert those tropes, because I go on Tv Tropes too much and have a compulsion to trope things even if it kills me. Twitter is for nerds. 
> 
> Also my betas are sleep deprived if there's a mistake tell me in the comments


End file.
